


When you're gone (be careful)

by TheArtfulDodger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark side wins, Delphi is a cutie-pie, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Voldemort is probably OOC by the end, epilogue rewritten, non-graphic major character death, starts canon-complient, then things change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18429887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtfulDodger/pseuds/TheArtfulDodger
Summary: Bellatrix and Voldemort say good bye four times as time passes and their relationship changes. By the fifth installment, Bella will no longer be there to bid her master farewell, but only then does the Dark Lord recognise her value.





	When you're gone (be careful)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarzipanLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzipanLady/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by marzipan-lady-art's drawing where Bella kisses Voldemort goodbye and asks him to 'be careful'. It gave me all the feels so I wrote about it. Go check her work out if you want some amazing art and/or want to be confused for finding Voldemort sexy. 
> 
> Also, it's gonna be fluffy in the end, you have been warned. 
> 
> Emphasis is in bold letters, Parseltongue is in italics. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!

**31 October 1981**

"Bella?"

There was no answer.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Bella!"

"My Lord!"

Bellatrix poked her head out of the changing screen. Voldemort had already changed in the middle of their bedroom from dress robes to a simple set of black robes and was now fastening his travelling cloak around his throat.

"I'm off."

"Clearly."

Voldemort cocked an eyebrow. Bellatrix strutted into full view and took a sip from the champagne flute she had smuggled up from the Masquerade Ball. Voldemort's burning eyes roamed slowly over her half-naked body.

"Such insubordination... You **are** lucky you're good-looking."

"Good-looking, am I?"

"...Yes..."

Voldemort's gaze was still captured by her cleavage.

"I've been granted better compliments before," she cut him off, turning her back at him to fiddle with the drawer she kept her hair ribbons in. Next moment, Voldemort had pressed his tall flame against her back, fingers digging into her panties.

"Then stay up and I'll come up with better ones later tonight," he hissed in her ear. Bella allowed him to bite hard into her neck before she pushed him back with a sneer.

"If you think I'm staying tied into this ancient torture device just so you can get some excitement in the middle of the night, you are mistaken, sir," she laughed, pointing at the old-fashioned corset required for the 18th century gown she had been sporting at the Ball.

"Watch your mouth, young lady."

"Besides, I need to be up early tomorrow," Bella ignored him. "My connections at the French Ministry have sent me files over files, I need to get ahead with those or there will be trouble."

"You boss won't mind," Voldemort said with a wicked smile.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at him and continued rummaging through the drawer more energetically. Voldemort waited for any sort of reply from the young woman, but she was not paying any attention to him anymore. Finally, he gave up: "Just wait up for me. Won't be long."

Bellatrix had disappeared behind the screen once more before the Dark Lord had left their room, too preoccupied with the clasps on her corset. When the polish on her nails was scratched off by the metal, she gave up and let the house elves undress and then redress her in the sheerest of her nightgowns, muttering under her breath about what a terrible day she was having all the way through.

* * *

 

**13 January 1996**

Lord Voldemort had been keeping vigil next to his best lieutenant for days. Bellatrix's body was broken. With her eyes closed, she looked like the corpse from a concentration camp inmate like the ones he had met during the war, when he was travelling around Europe. Bellatrix had been so close to death when he had broken her out of Azkaban, that for a few days he had been convinced he would lose her forever. These had been dark days, days he had spent mumbling spells over her skeletal figure, refusing sleep and sustenance in case he needed to make the difficult choice, to give her the ultimate chance of escaping death like he had done for himself. In the end, there had been no need to help her create a Horcrux of her own. Once her body had been strong enough to handle solid foods, her physical health had skyrocketed, and by now she was strong enough to sit next to him on the plush sofa, bundled in blankets, while he worked on blueprints of the Ministry of Magic. Her emotional balance was another matter, but Voldemort was optimistic. She was becoming lucid more often, able to recognise people around her and remember that she was no longer in prison. She would be fine, Voldemort was sure.

As if she had known he was thinking about her, Bellatrix' eyes flew open. It took her a while to focus on him (apparently being kept in a 10 by 10 foot large cell for nearly 15 years damages one's eyesight), but she remained calm. Voldemort left his desk and sat down on the sofa next to her very gently.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Malfoy Manor, my sister's amusingly tasteless home."

"Do you remember what year it is?"

"Nineteen ninety six. Depending on how long I've been asleep it could be January the thirteenth or fourteenth, which means I have been out of prison for either five or six days respectively."

"Good. Do you remember who I am?"

Bellatrix smiled widely and the change on her face was instant: the hard lines were gone, her cheeks seemed fuller, her eyes shone.

"I never forgot who you are, master."

Voldemort returned a lipless smile. Softly, he pushed back strands of black hair that were falling over Bellatrix' eyes and her head seemed to gravitate towards his hand. The slight touch had invigorated her more than three hours of sleep.

"How are you feeling?"

" Stronger. My head is clearer."

"Good. Does this mean you would like to join me for tea?"

"Here? Just us?"

"Of course."

"I'd love to."

It did not matter that tea time had been two hours ago, Voldemort was yearning for normalcy again; he would drink tea five times a day if it meant Bella getting back to her old, spitfire self quicker. He hurried to help her disentangle herself from the cocoon of blankets, but she was already arranging them on her lap. Nodding in approval, Voldemort ordered hot tea, cakes and sandwiches to be brought to the library, and soon they were tucking in. Bellatrix could not yet hold the teacup with only her fingers, but, to her great satisfaction, was able to butter her own toast.

"It feels so good holding a knife again, even if it's just for butter," she commented out of the blue, making the tips of Voldemort's mouth curl upwards in amusement.

"Of all the things you could reminisce about, knives are the first thing that comes to that twisted mind of yours?"

"Well... There is this other thing I am rather fond of when it comes to feeling good. But don't ask me to choose between it and my knife collection," she said tactfully in what sounded a lot like her old bedroom voice. Voldemort let out a curt laugh to cover up the hopeful jolt in his pants.

"I would never make you this uncomfortable," he promised. "But perhaps you would allow me to assist you with your bath tonight."

Bellatrix gave him a long, thoughtful look and Voldemort started worrying her strength was abandoning her once more.

"You really mean that, master?"

There was a hint of sadness in her voice. "Mean what?"

"Do you really want to fuck me now?"

"You look rather tired now," he said, clearly clueless.

"That's not what I meant, master," Bella muttered, and when he continued to appear lost, she continued. "I am not the woman I was, am I? Cissy refuses to hand me a mirror. I don't know how she expects me to react, but I doubt it's the kind of image that makes men hard. Especially men as difficult to please as yourself, my Lord."

It was Voldemort's turn to give her a long, calculating look. There was no irony in Bella's voice. In her adoring eyes, his serpentine face and spidery hands were, indeed, the most attractive physique.

"You will always be beautiful to me, Bella."

And he pressed his lips on hers. When they parted, Bellatrix looked as if she had downed an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. Voldemort had to restrain himself from telling her to wipe that foolish smile off her face.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said instead and stood up.

"Where are you going?!" Bellatrix had been frozen in her seat. Voldemort could see panic rise inside her like a wave, ready to crush down on her, sweeping everything away, only he had no idea why.

"I forgot a paper upstairs and I need it now. I'll only be gone a minute," he said in his most appeasing voice.

"You're leaving?" Bellatrix asked, hugging herself as if she were cold.

"I'm only going upstairs. To our bedroom. I was reading it last night while you were bathing. I must have put it on the nightstand and forgot about it. Bella, are you all right?"

"Fi... ahh-" she choked.

"Belle!" Voldemort rushed back to the sofa, where Bellatrix had started to squirm, pawing at her collar for lack of oxygen.

"Master..." she begged, sobs rocking her body, "what's... happening...?"

It took the Dark Lord half an hour and several spoonfuls of Draught of Peace to calm her down. As he sat on the sofa, Bella bundled like a baby next to him, he tried to detect what could have set off the panic attack. Only when, later that night, Bellatrix fell asleep hugging his entire torso, did it occur to him that the last time he had taken off 'for a bit' they had parted for 14 years. 

* * *

**22 October 1997**

"How long will you be gone this time?" Bellatrix asked, no intonation in her voice.

"A few days," Voldemort replied, without turning to look at her. "Maybe a week."

"And you're not going to tell me where you're going or what you'll be doing, are you?"

"No, I am not."

Bellatrix watched her master pull on heavy boots and the cape with fur trimming, and she could not stop herself from making assumptions. He was going someplace cold, most likely far away, definitely full of Dark, dangerous magic.

Another trip, another week absent from their life together.

Since Potter's escape over Little Whinging, Voldemort had been increasingly preoccupied with his research, which kept him away from her for weeks at a time. Who or what he was looking for, he would not tell her, no, because he did not trust her anymore. She had failed him. She had failed him as his student and as his second-in-command, and now she was failing him as his partner as well. Voldemort was a brilliant man who knew that, for Bellatrix, the greatest punishment was to be deprived of his presence, to be kept in the dark about his plans, while other followers enjoyed the Dark Lord's attention. She felt crushed, yet had to act brave; Lord Voldemort despised weaklings most of all.

"And you have to stay here and be safe," concluded Voldemort.

His hand cupped her swollen stomach for a fleeting moment, but it was enough for the tiny life inside to respond to her father's touch with a powerful kick. "Both of you," he added, looking Bellatrix straight in the eye.

He was demanding her word that, despite her weakness, she would have the common sense to keep his baby and future co-ruler of the world safe for as long as it was her direct responsibility to do so, regardless of her feelings.

"We will both be safe," Bellatrix reassured him."Just... just be careful."

She realised it was a mistake the moment she spoke the words and quickly retrieved the hand she had extended towards his chest. Voldemort's expression, mild only a second ago for the sake of their child, had hardened into a mask of anger.

"Careful of what?" he spat.

"I- I don't know, my Lord, I just-"

"You just what, girl? What should I be worried about?"

 _Nothing_ , was the correct answer. He, Lord Voldemort, most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived, Destroyer of Death, had nothing to be afraid of. No mortal posed a threat to his power, not even nature could tame him; to suggest otherwise would be hubris. And yet Bella had committed just that. She shrank back to the wall. He would not dare harm her in her condition, but physical pain made little difference to her anyway; it was his disapproval what she feared most.

"Speak, girl!"

"Nothing, my Lord! You have nothing to fear! I was merely- just saying words, master, I wasn't thinking!" Voldemort's hand was inside his pocket, surely clutching his wand, making a huge effort not to take it out and torture her until she could not remember her own name, Bella knew that.

Her master's eyes were flashing red when he spoke, voice forcedly calm: "That's your problem, Bella, you don't think! You don't think before you speak, you don't think before you act, you never think when it counts! So be quiet before the damage you do is irreversible!"

He had shouted the last words without even noticing. Bella had though, and she had ran out of the room, tears running down her cheeks.

Later that night he sat alone at the bar of a remote village pub nested at the feet of the German Alps. The hood of his robes fell well past over his eyes, concealing his identity, yet the few late-night patrons knew not to approach the stranger whose magic sizzled and flared around him. His thoughts travelled to Bella and their unborn baby. Through the Mark he could feel her distress: curled up at his side of the bed, as alone as he was, still sobbing her eyes out.

Had it really been such an offense that she actually cared about his well-being? 

* * *

 

**2 May 1998**

Bellatrix was lacing up her boots when the bedroom's door opened.

"Where, in Merlin's name, do you think you're going?" hissed Voldemort, who had not missed a beat on what she was doing.

"To the school with you, of course! I got the message," Bellatrix raised her left arm, on which the Dark Mark had been branded.

"You are not going anywhere!"

"Why not?"

"Who will stay with Delphini?"

"Oh, she'll be fine, it's only for a few hours. The elves will feed her and change her and we'll be back by breakfast," Bellatrix said easily, without even turning to look at the crib, where their baby daughter was napping.

"You can't come, you are her mother!"

"I'm sorry, are we playing gender roles now? Maybe you should stay with her!" Bellatrix cried, hysteria rising in her voice.

"This is not your battle, Bella! Potter is mine to kill! You need to stay here and keep our daughter safe!"

Even in her own mania, Bellatrix was able to detect something off in her master's eyes. He seemed wild, beside himself with anger. And there was something else there; if she didn't know better she would guess it was fear...

"She'll be perfectly safe here, nobody even knows she exists. Meanwhile, we'll take over the school and Britain will be officially yours. And I'm planning to be there when that happens. So let me get dressed in peace!"

"What if something goes wrong, Bella? What then?" he yelled, slapping the table. Bottles full of ointments and fragrances shattered on the floor, but nobody took notice.

"What do you mean 'if something goes wrong'? We'll find a way to fix it, like we always do," she said absentmindedly, looking for her curse-repelling robes.

Voldemort seemed to be having trouble expressing his thoughts.

"I mean... what if... **you**... are... killed," he forced the words out.

Bellatrix turned to face him for the first time. He looked mad with grief, and it had all started from the golden cup that had been stolen from her vault. It was all her fault and she had to fix it. She had to do something right, for once.

"If I'm dead, then I'm dead," she deadpanned and there was not a trace of fear in her voice.

"She needs you. Delphini needs you."

Bellatrix looked deep into the crimson eyes, wondering if the Dark Lord was being honest.

"Delphini does not need me," she stated, allowing the sadness she felt to colour her voice. "She has not needed me since the day she was born. But she needs you and you need her, so I must come with you to the battle at Hogwarts."

They stood nose to flat nose, two determined people not used to not getting their way, in a battle of wills. Voldemort seemed to realise the degree of Bella's determination, because what he said next was the only thing that could make his disaster-loving partner stay put: "I forbid you to leave this room, Bella."

For a moment Voldemort thought that Bellatrix was going to snap, whip out her wand and curse him. But then the madness subsided in her eyes; she deflated like a balloon.

"You can't do this to me," she whispered, lips trembling. "Please- don't do this to me."

"Bella..."

"I'm a warrior! That's what I always wanted to be- the only thing I wanted to be! I thought you understood that! When everyone else laughed and gave me baby dolls, you showed me how to fight, how to stand my ground! If you take this away from me, I am left with nothing!"

"You will still have our daughter," Voldemort reminded her coolly.

"She is not my daughter," Bellatrix said, looking at him straight in the eye, tears running down her cheeks. "She's yours."

"She is, indeed, therefore she deserves the best protection that I can offer her, and that is you. You are staying here."

Bellatrix took her time wiping her eyes and composing herself before she spoke in a steady voice again: "Fine. Fine. If that's what you want from me, I'll stay."

Voldemort observed her remove her cloak, corset and boots and dump them on the floor unceremoniously.

"Good," he nodded curtly. He walked to the crib and smoothed out a blanket that clearly did not need it, then made to leave. Bellatrix was still rooted in her spot, watching him like a hawk.

"See you in the morning," he told her, his tone calm now. In a few hours the boy would be dead and everything would be forgotten, he was sure of it.

"See you in the morning, my Lord," she bowed in submission. 

* * *

 

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The green and red jets of light met halfway between Voldemort and Harry, bursting into magnificent golden flames, and the Elder Wand flew out of Voldemort's hand and towards its true Master. Harry, with a Seeker's quick reflexes, caught it in midair and looked down at Voldemort, dead by his own rebounded curse.

Only... the corpse lying in the middle of the Great Hall was not Voldemort's. It was that of a tall woman with long, black hair that was fanned out on the ground around her. Bellatrix.

It took Voldemort a second to comprehend what had happened, but the onlookers had seen Bellatrix lauch herself into the battleground the moment the killing curse had been repelled and welcomed it in order to save her master, knowing full well what that meant. Voldemort and Harry stood at a loss, as if the script of their battle had been swept away by the wind. They were both calculating their chances: Harry was no longer protected by his mother's sacrifice, but was Master of the Elder Wand; Voldemort was a mere mortal with no Horcruxes and no wand willing to attack his arch nemesis. He was also protected by Bellatrix's loving sacrifice.

Harry reached the only solution to their problem a second too late. Voldemort had marched towards him in two long strides, claw-like hands outstretched.

_Snap!_

And The Boy Who Lived collapsed to the ground with a broken neck. 

The Great Hall stood motionless as the Dark Lord walked past Harry without giving him a second look, grabbed back his wand and unleashed a Killing Curse towards Molly Weasley, who fell next to her victim. Voldemort kicked her corpse away, taking Bellatrix's body in his arms. He Apparated away as the battle started anew. 

* * *

 

**1 September 2009**

The crowds parted as the tiny family walked through the dense smoke. Heads bowed in respect and several people had to be restrained by discreet Aurors from running to shake Lord Voldemort's hand.

"Carry on, ladies and gentlemen. Carry on."

"Nothing to see here, sir. Ladies, please..."

Slowly everyone turned their attention back to their own families, giving Voldemort and Delphini some privacy.

"I wish I could stay with you, Daddy," the little girl said, still holding her father's hand.

"Delphini, we have talked about this," Voldemort warned her. "You need to go to Hogwarts, it's the place where magic blooms."

"I know," she agreed, gazing up at him with genuine concern in her eyes. "But I'd rather stay with you."

Voldemort nodded. There was no point to explain to Delphi again that Hogwarts would help her become the greatest witch of their time, there was no point to explain to her again what Hogwarts meant to him; he knew from where his daughter's devotion to him stemmed. Instead, he knelt in front of her, so that their eyes were on the same level, scarlet to blue.

"I wish you could stay with me, too," he confessed. "You remind me so much of her, my treasure."

Delphini gasped a little. They hardly ever talked about her mother, for she knew how much pain the thought of her brought her daddy.

"But you've said I look nothing like her, Daddy," she muttered apologetically, toying with a strand of her white-blonde hair.

"The less you physically resemble her, the more you are like her in character," Voldemort said, and his daughter's eyes lit up. "Fierce, powerful, independent , yet incredibly tender. And very much your Daddy's little girl. I could not be more proud." Delphi took hold of her father's lapel and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Would Mother be proud?"

"She most definitely would," Voldemort answered with equal gravity. "I believe... I believe this would have been her final wish, had she been given the chance: you taking her place to my right."

"Daddy?"

"My love?"

"Would it ruin your image if I hugged you?"

It was Voldemort who launched forward and wrapped his arms around Delphi, and the little girl buried her face in the crook of his neck.

 _"Then... Then promise you'll be careful, Daddy,"_ she hissed in his ear.

_"I promise."_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, sorry not sorry if you're covered in syrop now.


End file.
